


Diamond in a Black Sky

by Destina



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-31 00:16:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/337793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destina/pseuds/Destina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur sends Merlin to work magic at Camelot's borders, and holds vigil until he returns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diamond in a Black Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wangler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wangler/gifts).



> Canon-era futurefic, written for Porn Battle XIII, despite the woeful lack of actual porn. Prompts used in this story: candle, possessive, goodbye, return, future, king, serve, magic.

Merlin's hands sketched lines along the map unfurled on the big table, and where he touched, lingering trails of golden fire remained. "It will take three months," he said, long fingers brushing across the inked borders dividing Camelot from her neighbors on all sides. 

The council meeting was tense and quiet, every man focused on Merlin's words, on the path he mapped with his fingertips. Arthur could remember a time when Merlin had gone unnoticed among them, his hands behind his back -- just another object in the room, like a chair or table. Now he commanded the full attention of the kingdom's best strategists. Arthur still took a secret delight in watching their rapt expressions whenever Merlin spoke. 

"Three months is a very long time to skirt the borders," Leon said. Arthur knew he was doing equations in his head, lists of supplies and horses, plotting routes and resources. His practical expertise was a fitting match to Merlin's ideas. 

"I can't weave the spells from too great a distance. The magic won't take. I'll have to cast at intervals, three or four leagues apart." He glanced up at Arthur then, his expression solemn. "I'll have to stop every so often, and rest." 

"Gwaine will lead twenty men of his own choosing to accompany you," Arthur said. "Percival and Elyan will also join the column." All around him, heads nodded in agreement. There had been a time when Arthur had thought to justify his fear for Merlin's safety, but that requirement was now clear to all. Merlin was the kingdom's most valuable asset, but in Arthur's eyes, his worth was far deeper than his magic. 

Merlin straightened, stretching his shoulders. "We should leave as soon as possible. More magic users are creeping across the border every day. It's only a matter of time until they form a fighting force, and then we'll play hell containing them." 

"In the morning," Arthur said. He pressed his hand to the map. Tendrils of Merlin's magic caught and curled around his hand, like the strongest tide at the full moon. He was helpless against it; he could only submit, and be drawn away into the deep. 

An hour later, he stood with his back to the wall in Merlin's chambers, watching him pack the worn saddlebag which had accompanied them everywhere since Arthur could remember. Years of tramping about the countryside, first as a servant, then as an advisor, and now finally as Arthur's personal sorcerer. Still, he refused to trade in the damn bag. 

As if Merlin could hear Arthur's exasperated musings, he raised his head and said, "It serves its purpose, you know. I don't need anything better."

"Are you sure this will work?" Arthur said. What he didn't say, what he could never bring himself to ask, was whether it was safe. Whether Merlin might give more than his share, and whether Albion would take more than Merlin should offer. 

"It makes sense, Arthur." Merlin closed the flap of the saddlebag and fastened it, then sat down on the edge of the bed. "The borders have to be sealed, and you know troops won't be effective. Magic users can overcome your methods without a second thought." 

"My methods," Arthur murmured, shaking his head. "Defense of the realm by the sword still has its place, Merlin."

"Yes, but not now. Not when there are sorcerers crossing the border every day, planning to kill you, Arthur." Merlin stood up, tension and determination plain in every line of his body. "I won't have it." 

Arthur raised an eyebrow, and Merlin tilted his head and looked back at him with that peculiarly stubborn expression. "I accept the need for it," Arthur said finally. "But three months, Merlin...it is so long." 

_So long to be apart_ , he did not say. There were epics written in the words Arthur could not ever say. 

Merlin lifted his hand; gold flashed in his eyes, and a moment later, a flame burned in the cradle of his palm. "Come here," he said, extending his hand. 

Arthur moved closer, and when Merlin gestured, he lifted his hand. Merlin whispered something under his breath, and the flame leaped from Merlin's palm to Arthur's. There was no heat, no pain, only a gentle tingling sensation. Arthur stared at the tiny flickering light, filled as always with awe-struck delight at the sight of Merlin's magic. "Light the candle," Merlin said, smiling at him. 

Arthur turned to the window and tilted his hand toward the wick of the candle sitting there. As if by his command, the flame jumped eagerly from his skin to the candle, setting it ablaze with a golden glow. "Now you will have something of me here," Merlin said, pressing a kiss to Arthur's palm. "As long as the flame burns, I am with you." 

They touched each other late into the night, Arthur's hands upon Merlin's skin, Merlin's smiles consumed by Arthur's kisses, and the flame burned bright against the glass until dawn. 

**

Endless tasks filled the days and hours of Merlin's absence. Arthur held court and saw to the business of the kingdom. As part of that duty, he placed more than one sorcerer in irons to await Merlin's return, and his judgment of their intent. 

In every one of their faces, he saw the shadow of Morgana, her green eyes blazing hate, or Merlin, his blue eyes shining with love. There seemed to be no middle ground anymore. Camelot had become a prisoner of its own history, and those who meant to destroy demanded equal time with those who wished for peace. 

Each night, Arthur tossed and turned in sleepless worry, only to rise and stare at the steady candle flame. On those evenings when the flame burned low, Arthur sat by the fireplace with a cup of wine, as if he could guard the flickering light against unseen enemies. Visions of conflict and battle formed in his mind's eye, and his heart seized at the idea of Merlin vulnerable, so far away. 

He spent hours thinking of Merlin's smile, of the way he always watched Arthur so carefully, as if Arthur were the fragile one in need of protection. Merlin, who would give everything for Camelot, because it was for Arthur. 

Most nights, the tiny flame blazed fiercely, giving off no heat but only light, as brilliant and pure as the full moon. On those nights, Arthur could feel the magic in his own body, a sinuous press of joy and strength. He knew in those moments that Merlin's hands were plunged into the earth, weaving his magic into the land that Arthur so loved, and by turns into Arthur, who was wed to it for the length of his life. 

If he closed his eyes, he could hear Merlin's quiet laughter, and the low sound of his voice as he spoke the words of the old religion. On the cusp of sleep, he could feel Merlin's magic surrounding him, twisting through him like an ornate calligraphy only Merlin would write. Merlin had come so far from the simple man he had once seemed to be that Arthur could only distantly remember those days at all. 

Merlin's magic left its mark upon his soul, just as it burned his ownership upon the land. _Arthur_ , it whispered. _Albion_ , and _forever_ , and _ours_ , and _mine._ Arthur knew the corners of his world were sealed together for as long as Merlin lived, and far beyond that time. 

Forever, Arthur thought, was not nearly long enough to be bound to Merlin. But it was an acceptable start. 

On the night the candle guttered and nearly flared out, Arthur fell to his knees and stayed there, forehead pressed to the cold stone wall, murmuring Merlin's name as if it were a protection against all harm. 

There was no help for the madness of longing; Arthur could only wait for his vigil to end. 

On the last night of Arthur's vigil, Merlin had been gone four months and three days. Arthur sat up in bed just at the edge of dawn, and saw the candle flame dancing about the room, detached merrily from the wick as if it had never been tethered there at all. 

"My lord!" Leon called from outside, his fist a hammer upon the door. A moment later, he burst in, joy breaking across his face in a wide smile. "Arthur, word has come from the scouts on the road from Mercia. Merlin and Gwaine are a day's ride from the gates." 

"So they are," Arthur said, smiling. 

**

There were formalities to be observed, of course. Merlin, covered with the dust of the road, grinned cheekily at his king as he entered the council chambers, and bowed low with Gwaine at his side. "It is finished," he said. "Camelot's borders are sealed; no sorcerer can enter without my knowing." The sighs and murmurs of relief around the room were followed by spontaneous applause. 

Arthur lifted his chin and met Merlin's eyes. He had been trained since birth not to reveal his true feelings to the world, never to show emotion, but there was no help for it. Where Merlin was concerned, the written rules unraveled, became only faint hints of suggestions on the wind. 

"Merlin," Arthur said. "You have done a great service for this kingdom. I honor you for it, and I thank you." 

"My lord," Merlin said, bowing low, even as Arthur rose from his throne. 

In turn, Arthur nodded to Gwaine, Percival and Elyan, all safe and returned to their home, an ease upon his heart. He met their smiles with one of his own, and then turned to Merlin. "You will dine with me tonight," he said, "and tell me of your adventures."

"With pleasure, sire," Merlin said, a twinkle in his eye. 

An hour later -- which was as long as Arthur could stand to wait -- he concluded council and returned to his own chambers, to find Merlin waiting there for him. His books were spread out across Arthur's table, many of them open. There were already ink stains on Merlin's fingers, a tale untold in their random patterns. Platters of meat and bread and fruit awaited the king, untouched except for the grapes Merlin had been stealing. 

"Whatever took you so long?" Merlin asked, barely getting his feet under him before Arthur was upon him. Merlin's lips tasted the same, like all the mysteries and secrets unfurled, and the taste of summer rain upon the earth. 

"Merlin," Arthur said, such joy in his heart. They tugged at their clothes, hurrying to revel in the soft press of fingertips to bare skin. 

It was not until Merlin was deep inside him, Arthur's head thrown back against the pillows, his body strung tight under the pleasure, that he felt magic winding through him again. Merlin kissed him, and Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin, arching up to meet him. 

"I will weave us together," Merlin said, his eyes flashing gold. "Bone and steel, magic and blood, through the ages. Is this what you want?"

"Yes," Arthur growled, as his climax ripped through him, stealing his breath. 

Merlin buried his face in Arthur's neck, breath hitching on every stroke. "Never again," he rasped. "Never parted, do you hear me?"

"Never again," Arthur agreed, his own voice none too even. Merlin kissed him then, fierce and intent, even as he spent inside Arthur, sealing his explicit promise. 

In the early hours of the morning, Arthur woke to a cold room. The fire had died down, and only the candle still burned, its light steadfast and strong. 

"I was always with you," Merlin said softly, his breath warm against Arthur's shoulder. He reached out a graceful hand, and the flame lifted itself from the candle, retreating into Merlin's gentle clasp. 

"So you were," Arthur said, and with one arm, settled Merlin closer to him. 

end


End file.
